Marked and Hunted
by KissMyScythe
Summary: Prudence Virginia Scott, it was as if the universe was making a joke with her existence. If Solomon's mark on her wrist wasn't enough, her parents had set her up to be a nun in retaliation. Prudence's fate was set in place before her namesake, yet will she follow along with what is"right?" Whatever that may be, the universe has it's work cut out with this one,she's playing for her.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Prudence Virginia Scott

What an ironic name for the mate of a demon. It was as if her parents had doomed her to act against them. What did they expect? For her to be declared a saint? To be a nun?

Not that her parents were saints either. Something that made her namesake even more nonsensical.

Lady and Lord Scott were the throne's tie to the supernatural. Prudence does not understand how they operated on that level of defense because of her parents vanishing from the court in her early years. Her father felt the underground of England was no place to raise a child, and even more so when his wife Emily was murdered due to loose ends not being tied off. In his grief and passion for his wife, Lord Arnold Scott III hid young Prudence away in the countryside. Most men would hand the child off to family, usually women, especially if said child was a girl.

But Arnold knew something was special about Prudence, and it wasn't just her bright red hair she had inherited from her mother.

When the babe was born, the Lady and Lord were overjoyed. She came out healthy, beautiful, and barely even cried. There was only one thing wrong. One thing that has stricken fear into the couples soul.

A version of Solomon's pentagram scarred into the infant's forearm. The syllables indecipherable. Its origin inexplicable.

Her father had a few theories, but none of them could lead him to a straight explanation. The two had pulled themselves away from their "area of work" to prevent whatever bad omen the demonic scar represented. Lady Emily had not survived the withdrawal.

In her name and memory, Arnold raised his daughter in isolation, keeping contact with only his closest friends, Earl and Countess Phantomhive.

Prudence grew up without a mother or even a nanny. She was very much a tomboy. Her father taught her how to fight, win an argument, and handle a sword. The daughter had learned many forms of defense, but her strongest category was judo because of her size and interest, feeling it was the most practical and the most useful.

She also learned to wear long sleeves.

While her father tried his best to keep her away from the lore that consumed his earlier life, it was in her nature to snoop and study. She eventually came across her father's collection of books and rituals and learned to resent her mark as much as her parents.

Her mark made her evil. It made her tainted, cursed.

But no one had to know that.

So many times she tried to scrape the mark off with abrasives and the like. One day she had attempted to cut the mark from her skin completely.

She took a small dagger and attempted to scrape off the top layer of skin, leaving her in a bloody mess. With haste, she bandaged the spot and went to sleep. (She was drained from the loss of blood.) The next morning she removed the bandage to view the damage and she shrieked in surprise.

Her wound had healed! But how?!

Something even more peculiar: the mark was now a black, bold line instead of a faded, scar-like mark. She wasn't sure what was worse: a gruesome infection or the mark making a bolder comeback.

She stroked it slightly and drew her hand back from the sharp shock it sent through her fingers. It wasn't painful, just… _surprising_.

Almost as if it had consciously reacted to her touch. Like it knew what she'd done.

She considered cutting off the limb altogether, but she figured her father would notice something like that. She was lucky she wouldn't have to continue her training with such a wound anyway, it could have been so much worse, and she was sure she'd have been punished for harming herself in such a way.

Still, she couldn't believe the demonic mark had come back. The nature of it all proved it to be something supernatural and not just a coincidence, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the explanation behind it.

From there on she left it alone, wearing practical long sleeves with fastening to her sleeves down. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of Prudence's trepidation.

At sixteen, her father had contracted smallpox. Having beat it when she was younger, Prudence was immune. Her father in his forties was no match, however, especially without the more experienced doctors that nobles normally had.

He eventually passed away. He had told her to travel to London to meet their only allies. Family was out of the question, as they were either unaware of her existence or untrustworthy.

Though. it seemed his good friends had met a similar fate of that her mother. The lively couple and their only son and heir had died in a house fire about a week prior. No doubt a result of foul play.

That was her luck.

Her father confident in his decision, dictated in his will the house to be sold as to remove any evidence of their secret life away from the crown. She was only thankful to keep her more important keepsakes and was allotted the money from the sale. At this, she headed into town with no exact plan in mind. The house was small and unnoticeable, so she didn't get too much from it. She had maybe enough for rent for four months and minimal food, meaning she would have to get to work.

She considered being a maid, or a nanny, but she had never even met another child except once years ago, and her household skills were subpar. It wasn't lucrative anyway.

Prudence considered a few less than respectable jobs that went along with her skills. Her training was impressive for what it was:

"Up. You have five minutes before you get dragged out of bed," her father said commanded, leaving as quickly as he came in.

She couldn't believe he was going to teach her! He had told her only last year she would have to wait until she turned 16, but due to his paranoia and her persistence, she would celebrate her twelfth birthday a little unorthodox.

"You will do as I say, without complaint, exactly how I say to do it until I decide we are finished. Do I make myself clear?" her father asked in an intimidating voice. She had rarely seen this part of her loving father.

But this was what she wanted, and she would do as he said.

"Yes fa-sir!" she said correcting herself. He had told her prior to this he was to be called "sir" during training.

He nodded his head. "My first task for you will be to climb this tree. You will need to do it in under 15 seconds. If you do not complete the task how I say, you will be punished with a lash from this switch right here " he said coldly. Prudence's eyes went wide. She had forgotten about this from her father's stories of his own training, however, his trainer used whips.

He was going easy.

"Y-yes sir," she said trembling.

"Do I hear doubt? An assassin does not show fear! Again!" He held the flexible wood, ready to strike.

"Yes, sir!" "Time starts... Now!"

She rubbed her arm at the memory. That stupid tree branch had her sleeping on the cold floor because her body burned so bad of her mistakes, not that it was her father's fault. She had begged and pleaded for him to continue. Even after the first day when he himself wanted to stop.

So he had continued on every day until she was 15. He then made her do drills once every three days, trusting her to keep herself sharp.

Prudence wasn't sure where to begin for the job she was considering. She was an orphan with no family, so upper society would be tricky. She wasn't a respectable lord or lady like her late parents. Her work would have to be skillful.

It would have to be useful.

An assassin?

That was insane. Why on earth had that been her first thought? She could never kill someone willfully... could she?

She had thought of it. Quite quickly, she might add.

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't great at much else. Her domestic skills were mediocre at best, and she doubted she could handle being barked at in such a way before she slipped from her false obedient persona and bit the perpetrators head clean off with sarcasm and insubordination.

She would have to have control.

Intel? She simply didn't have the connections.

Groundskeeping? She was a woman.

Anything with children was out of the question, as were most learned jobs, as she again, was a woman.

...tailoring!

The one domestic skill she had a leg to stand on was sewing. She had made most of her own clothes due to her precision and lack of pants made for women. She wasn't allowed into town often, and her father, bless his heart, couldn't begin to understand women's clothing and comfortability. She had made and tailored many things to her liking, mostly trousers and skirts.

She had decided she would go into town the next morning to find a shop willing to take her on.

This was a start.


	2. Chapter 2: Independent

Marked and Hunted Chapter 2: Independent

Prudence awoke upright in a cold sweat, arm outstretched as if she was reaching for something.

Or someone.

4:24 a.m. read the clock on the far wall.

The details of her dream were hazy. She could remember a chilling, shadowy figure. He was leading her up a path in near complete darkness. They approached something that looked like a mansion and then he disappeared.

One would think she would be relieved to be rid of the nefarious creature, but she was instead anxious and longing.

Longing? It was an inexplicable feeling, really.

She decided that was enough sleep for her, as she didn't want to know what she was longing for. A hunk of bread and some milk sounded like a much better choice.

Prudence found herself drifting back to the peculiar dream/nightmare she had the previous night and began to wonder if it meant something.

Maybe something from her early childhood? Perhaps it had something to do with her mark? The dream was quite ominous and she didn't take the ones she remembered lightly. Prudence Scott wasn't superstitious, however, she grew up knowing you should follow your gut, and it was telling her she should not push away something like this.

But it would have to wait.

She rubbed the mark on her arm. She could almost feel the burn of infection and desperation from when she had attempted to remove it a few years prior.

There was something wrong with her.

Prudence picked a lighter dress with a flowy skirt and light long sleeves. No one was to see her mark, especially future employers.

Her russet coloured hair was done up in a braided bun, with some ringlets falling out to frame her face.

It was mid-spring, and London was bustling along with the cool breeze and sense of production. Everyone was growing, producing, selling, and buying; especially on a day like today.

It was a pleasant spring morning, sunny and almost wistful with the slightly damp air from the previous night's rain. She took a deep breath and started down one of the busy streets, looking for a tailor's shop.

_The Sampson's Shoppe._

The quaint dresses and suites in the window implied that she had found her target. She decided to go inside and check out the merchandise.

_Dingling _

She stepped in to be greeted by a voluptuous woman in what appeared to be her mid-forties. She had her hair tied back in a tight bonnet and her cheeks were rosy red atop her milky skin. All types of pins and clips were attached to her apron. She was holding a medium piece of cardstock in her hand, she looked like she had been writing something on it before being spooked by the shop's bell.

"'Ello, deary! What brings you in today?" the motherly figure greeted her.

"Hello, I was passing by your shop and decided I would stop in to peruse. I hope you don't mind, I'm just a bit nosey," Prudence said jokingly. The lady smiled at the young woman's honesty and visibly relaxed.

"You're welcome to look around. Call for me' if ya see anything that catches your fancy." The woman made her way to a pedestal holding an unfinished dress in the corner, forgetting the paper on the front counter. Seeing as it was face up, Prudence slowly walked past it to read its contents.

'**Help Wan-'**

It looked like it was to be a help wanted sign. She sent a prayer of thanks to the angel looking out for her at the moment.

"It seems like this is your first time in my shop! It's quite popular! Are you from around here?" The woman asked, trying to make conversation with the strange girl in her shop.

"Ah yes, I'm new to town. I grew up with my father in the countryside. He's passed recently, so I'm here looking for work," Prudence answered honestly. This woman couldn't possibly know anything to do with her family's "situation," so she felt it was best to tell the truth.

"Oh dear! You don't look older than sixteen, wee' lamb! You don't have any family to take you in?" The woman asked, eyes full of pity. Prudence sighed. This woman was asking a lot of questions, but she would remain polite as this woman may potentially employ her.

"No, they're all dead or have disowned my father long ago." This didn't sit right with the woman. She held the needle to her chin for a moment in thought, then perked up.

"Are you any good with a sewing needle dear? My daughter used to help me in the shop, but she recently married and with child, so I'm afraid she will no longer be joining me. I could really use the help." The woman looked at her hopefully, just as Prudence had been patiently expecting. A feeling of relief washed over her at the offer.

"Yes, in fact, it seems to be the only domestic skill I'm good at. I don't have much money from the estate sale, only enough to last me a little while. I'd be honored to work for you ma'am," she said politely.

"Agnes, dear. This job ain't glorious, and I can't pay you too much, but it's enough to live and I'll gladly feed you while you're here. The first few days will be a trial run to test your skills," she said in a stern, motherly tone.

"Thank you for the opportunity! I won't disappoint!" Prudence shook Agnes's hand in gratitude.

"Of course deary! Just don't let me down."

Agnes and Prudence discussed her wages and her assignments for the next day. The woman sent her on her way for the evening, as she hadn't much work to be done, and didn't plan to stay open for more than a few hours. From the next day forward, she would start to close much later as she would be able to handle more projects with an extra set of hands.

The next morning Prudence woke up sans cold sweat and ominous dream. It was 6 a.m. and she was to be at the shop at 8 a.m. sharp, and not a minute later.

Today it was raining and absolutely dreadful. Perhaps it was a premonition to how her day was supposed to go.

Not that she was superstitious about these things.

However, today felt different. Maybe it was the start of her new job?

Agnes had assigned Prudence to cut some measurements of fabric in the back and organize some of the bits and bobbles in the storage room. The shopkeeper said her daughter had usually done such work, and it hadn't been tended to in months. She could hardly find anything. Prudence agreed.

As Prudence got to work in the back, the bell on the shop's door tinkled.

"Oh hello, mister Sebastian! It's hardly been a month since I last saw you! 'ow's Earl Phantomhive?" the seamstress continued to prattle on to the handsome butler as she put away what she was working on. Her attention was to be on her present and most lucrative client.

Prudence peeked her head out from the back to take a look at their first customer since her start.

"Good day . My master is in good health, thank you for asking. It would appear that the young Lord has ripped a hole in his favorite jacket. He has many others, yet it seems he wants this one fixed specifically," the butler said almost annoyed. It was hard to tell with the closed eye smile he kept on his face.

Nonetheless, Prudence got goosebumps from his voice. He was handsome, sure, but there was something almost off about him that she could place. Her right hand twitched a bit.

"Ah yes, children and their stubbornness. My Amelia gave me the same grief through her younger years, she did! Sometimes still does!" Agnes said sympathetically, inspecting the damaged jacket.

"How has your Amelia been? Last you told me she was with child. Congratulations. Have you started looking for help?" he asked politely.

Agnes's eyes lit up. "Ah yes! I'm hoping for a little girl to get back at her for her younger years! But yes, in fact! She's starting today! Prudence!" Agnes yelled, coaxing her out of hiding.

"Coming ma'am!" Prudence said inside of the closet to appear she hadn't been spying. She shuffled out with the cut fabric and a feather stuck in her hair.

"This is my newest seamstress! It's wonderful to have someone else around the shop again," Agnes said beaming. "Prudence, this is one of our best clients, Sebastian, servant of the Phantomhives."

She went to shake his hand and stopped unconsciously. Before she could stop herself, she asked, "Phantomhive? I thought they passed in the fire?" That's what she had heard back when she attempted to contact them a few months ago. Sebastian closed the space between their hands and gripped it firmly, something behind his eyes flashing.

Anticipation.

"_Prudence."_ He said aloud. It wasn't a question.

He said it slowly, yet firmly, like he was trying the name out as if it could be changed to his liking.

It would have been nearly hypnotizing if she wasn't so uncomfortable.

"Yes, but only partly true. Their son Ciel survives them, taking over the estate and title. It's nothing short of a miracle," he said almost jokingly, but that wouldn't make sense. His hands were cold but firm around the one he'd taken.

She felt dizzy at the information and at him. "I see, well it's nice to meet you" was all she could choke out.

Ciel had survived? Why hadn't that bit been included? Could she even do anything with this information? 'Ciel probably wouldn't remember her anyhow,' she thought sadly. All she could do was imagine a scared young boy, quite different from the cheerful one she'd met years prior.

"Before I forget, do you have that brew that you promised to give me?" Sebastian said, pulling Prudence from her thoughts.

"Oh yes! I nearly forgot!" Agnes made her way to a small trunk in the corner by her pedestal, where she pulled out a small vial with a murky brown liquid. She nearly handed it to the butler before she stopped herself, "Twenty pounds," she said with a sly smile. Sebastian laughed.

"Oh dear, we discussed 15 when I was last here, I think you may have forgotten our **deal**_." _His eyes, _flashed_?

Prudence rubbed her eyes, she had a few floaties.

She needed to go to bed earlier, or at least that's what she told herself.

The witch sighed and handed him the vial, "No need for all that. I have to try, it's in my nature, but my timing is bad. I'm getting old." It was Agnes's turn to laugh. Sebastian gave a tight smile and handed her the payment for… the brown stuff and looked to Prudence again.

"Does _Prudence_ help in your side business?" Why did he have to say it like that? Agnes tensed very slightly, "Ah no, it's just me. But if Amelia doesn't take it over I'll need a successor, won't I?" She sent the butler a sly wink.

Sebastian was suddenly not amused, eyes narrowing. "It seems fate may have other plans for her," he said with a polite smile, the kind you gave to people you had to be nice to. Agnes raised an eyebrow to this, but said nothing.

Prudence was confused, they were probably in on some joke between the two of them, but knew she could be a lot nosier if she kept quiet. This wasn't something she was usually good at, but something in her brain stopped her from intruding, most likely the news about Ciel.

Agnes cleared her throat, breaking the silence."Is that all you need, or should I get out the holy water?" The shopkeeper said, attempting to lighten the mood once more.

The butler decided to play along, "With such a threat, I must surrender for now. I shall be back in a weeks time to retrieve the jacket. We should be in town for a short while, I will send a message with the exact time. Please be punctual." With that, the man left.

"He's off. What was that you gave him? Was it illegal? His hair is much too long," Prudence spat out like vomit. She couldn't hold it in much longer, and she had many questions and statements she felt she needed to share.

Agnes chuckled. "You must have been an only child, my Amelia is much like you," she walked over to the pedestal and placed the jacket on the silhouette to give it shape. "He's friendly enough, and a frequent client to boot. That's what's important," she jingled the small pouch of money and put it snugly into her bust, patting it afterward for safe keeping. She then started looking over the lapels, taking note of the missing button and over stretched holes, "but he is peculiar. His hair _is _much too long, but so is his master's. They almost match. It's adorable, it is." Agnes said, her shoulders bouncing with laughter at the thought.

Prudence smiled and the outlandish woman, but then remembered the avoided question. "What was in the vial worth fifteen pounds?"

"Oh it's just an old family recipe, I whip it up for him every so often. If you're good, I may share it with you someday!" Agnes poked her on the nose and winked, then turned away. Prudence had been left with more questions than answers, but she decided that was for another day. Agnes may not trust her yet, but maybe she will a bit later. Prudence had time.

Today, she would attempt to prove herself.

"What do you have for me? Put me to work, I'm all yours!" Prudence said with a smile, arms spread out.

"How are you with suit jackets?" Prudence froze. "Isn't that your most valuable client?"

"Oh yes. Pays my bills, that one does," Agnes nodded.

"And you want me to work on that?" Prudence asked, eyes wide.

"Oh yes, I trust you," Agnes nodded again.

"You just met me and hired me, all in twenty-four hours."

"Right."

"And I'm to work on your best client's favorite jacket."

"We are in a tailor shop, aren't we?"

"I'm not so sure," Prudence said skeptically.

Agnes sighed and rolled her eyes. She grabbed a needle from one of her pockets and set it in her new employee's palm, closing her fingers around it with her own. "Just don't mess up too bad, okay? I need to check up on some things upstairs. Smile at customers and give me a shout if you need me. I should be back in a pinch. The damage isn't that bad, do what you can," and then sauntered around the corner and presumably up a staircase.

Prudence stared at the needle in her hand with worry, and then at the jacket itself.

The self-taught seamstress took a deep breath and whispered to herself, "Here goes nothing, don't mess this up stupid, you need this job."

Hello! I'm back and a little bit anxious. First things first, REVIEWS! My life, my breath, and my soul.

Writer's Obsession-

I appreciate the comment! I have a very particular writing style. As you read on you will start to see commas appear and disappear depending on the character. 110% intentional due to her age and how she speaks. However, pm me if this makes the writing unreadable, because that happens and can be changed. A comma indicates a pause, young flashback Prudence talks without much discipline, and it will show it's head a lot more in later chapters as she understands gets more comfortable. You most likely won't see it for until maybe chapter four, or mid three, depending on what decisions she makes.

I'm flipping a coin for some of them.

I will also consider the slowburn, however, I'm not entirely sure if I can speed it up too much with the characters I'm creating. Hopefully, I can keep you satisfied in the meantime.

Also, a thank you to Deux-solitaire-loups and Manon! Such nice comments! I appreciate them!

Sorry if the chapter seems boring, however, I'd like to think of Agnes as closely resembling Helena Bonham Carter. ;) We're gonna pick up here in the next chapter. Its gonna be LOOOOOOONG. So buckle up and here we go.


	3. Chapter 3: Sore

Chapter Three: Drowning

Her boss somewhere upstairs doing who knows what, Prudence reflected on the interaction she just had. There were three things to consider.

Ciel was alive. What that meant for her, she did not know. While Prudence had no pretenses approaching the Phantomhives as a unit, she felt uneasy approaching the orphaned boy alone. She had no idea how he was fairing, having lost his family the same as her. She would consider writing to the boy, but she would give it time.

Her boss may or may not be a drug dealer. This didn't bother her too much, but it was something to consider. Was it lucrative? She did say her daughter helped her. Were they apart of a gang? Should she bring weapons to work? Call her out?

_No, Prudence decided. She would give her time. She was being paid, that was all that mattered._

She did not trust that butler. If she ever did get in contact with Ciel, she had no doubt their paths would cross again. He gave her the same feeling as a child feels after a nightmare they couldn't remember; caution and confusion.

The creaking from the floorboards above broke her from her thoughts and brought her back to the task at hand.

Prudence looked at the garment at a loss. It intimidated her greatly.

'Its fine, it's just the favorite jacket of the closest thing I have to an ally that is supposed to be dead, and also our most prestigious and frequent client.'

Though she had to admit, it wasn't Ciel she was worried about.

Prudence considered abandoning the shop altogether and living on the streets as an urchin as she approached the jacket with caution, needle gripped tightly in her hand like a sword. Prudence thought her first task would be some light hemming and maybe fitting, but this?

She would try her best not to mess it up.

She stared at the tear in the sleeve. It looked like something had cut it cleanly, like a pair of scissors had gotten ahold of it.

Or a sword.

Could Ciel use a sword? What situation would he have been in that would require a sword?

She then remembered he was a young boy, and anything was possible. Perhaps he had been roughhousing, or possibly got caught on something.

Prudence, in the end, knew where the cut had come from. Her fashion choices hadn't been the only cause of her seamstress skills. And to her understanding, their families hadn't only been tied through social ranking.

All she could do was pray he was being looked after properly, which she doubted if that creepy butler was around. She hoped he had others he could trust with his best interest in mind.

She carefully and skillfully stitched the hole closed. Prudence had wondered why the seamstress hadn't invested in a sewing machine. While they were expensive, it delivered cleaner lines and lighter work, not that the job that Prudence had provided wasn't near perfect due to the cleanliness of the tear. She then thickened the stitching around the buttonholes to prevent the buttons from falling out. Prudence wondered if Ciel was getting too big for the jacket.

She wondered how tall he was now; if he was still small for his age.

She looked at the empty space in the row of gilded buttons, she would have to ask Agnes about replacing it, seeing as this was not the first time the piece was repaired.

_Dingling_

For now, she would deal with the business coming in.

A few hours later, it was 6 p.m. and Prudence was exhausted and practically starving.

Agnes skipped up to the door, flipping the open sign to closed. She turned around and clapped her hands together with a relieved sigh and a smile.

"Now that was one of the busier days in a while, it was! Couldn't 'ave did it without you dearie!" she said clapping the younger woman on the shoulder. Prudence smiled wearily at the woman. While she was nice enough, Prudence hadn't been around people often enough. After such a busy day, she was mentally and socially tired.

"Now, to celebrate I've got a tuck of gin and a good meal waiting upstairs, just like I promised," Agnes said gesturing for Prudence to follow her. She obliged, not wanting to argue with the woman, but also not being in a state to turn down free food. Her stomach might attack her for such a disservice.

The scent of something warm and savory wafted to her, the aroma of garlic and seasoned beef overtook her sense of smell and made her head spin. She was hungrier than she thought.

"I've made my special goulash! Been makin' it for ages. Sit, sit!" Agnes pulled a chair out for her to take a seat as she hurried over to the bubbling cauldron over the fireplace. She filled the bowl with an iron ladle and set the meal in front of her.

"This smells amazing, I could cry," Prudence said tearing up a little. She grabbed a spoonful and tasted it and sighed a happy sigh.

Agnes smiled brightly and blushed, "I've always loved cooking for others. Consi'ered opening a restaurant a long time ago, but thought it would be a bit cliche."

"Well, you're gonna have a hard time getting rid of me after a meal like this. What do you mean cliche?" Prudence asked.

"Ah never mind, it's not important. I've apple pie for dessert if ya' got the room for it." Prudence was easily distracted by the promise of pie and dropped the subject with enthusiasm.

"Have you gone over my work? I was a little nervous doing the buttonholes, and it's missing the third from the top," Prudence said between bites, not wanting to forget about the important task she had been given.

"Ah yes, you did lovely. I've replaced that set before, I have the extras tucked away somewhere, I'll find 'em tomorrow. But for now, gin," she poured her and her companion a glass and raised it. "Cheers! We had a good run today!" Prudence tinked her cup against Agnes's and swigged the drink down in one go. Prudence realized what she had just done, but visibly relaxed when Agnes mirrored her actions.

"Atta gal! That's the spirit! Although, I wouldn't expect that from someone named 'Prudence'," Agnes said jokingly.

Prudence rolled her eyes, "That's Prudence _Virginia_," she said good-naturedly.

Agnes visibly winced, "Bloody hell, that's gotta be rough. What were your parents thinking?"

Prudence snorted, "That'd I'd get into a good monastery, probably," she sobered slightly, "but in all seriousness, my mum gave me my name. She passed before I could ever get to know her," she said somberly. She wasn't quite sure she was confessing this to the woman, but she was the closest thing she had to a friend. Who would she tell?

"Ah, me own mum passed when I was just a little girl, the sickness goes around and gets all the good ones. That's what keeps the world balanced, I think."

"Oh, it wasn't an accident."

Agnes choked, "pardon?"

Prudence took another long sip from her drink, "My family was targeted. I've actually been in hiding of sorts since I was young. Now that father's gone, I'm on my own."

Agnes stared back at a now rosy-cheeked Prudence, who just unloaded a lot of information onto her. Agnes was sure the information given to her had some type of value, but her heart went out to the girl. She really did remind her of her daughter after all, and it seemed like the girl saw her as a motherly type figure.

Agnes had decided something at that point, to hell with the blasted butler, but she would have to wait until the time was right.

"Sounds like you've had a tough time dearie. I'm here if you ever need me, don't be afraid to ask. I always have good food and plenty of gin!"

"That you do," Prudence agreed, pouring herself another drink in response.

"Well, aren't you cheeky," she teased and copied her.

After some time, Prudence started to find herself quite tired. While the season caused it to stay light out much longer than the months previous, the sky was a pretty purple-pink, which meant it was time for her to head home. It seemed that Agnes felt the same way, standing up abruptly after glimpsing at the large window behind them.

"Now, I'm not kicking you out because I don't want ya' company dearie, but it's about to get dark, and there's been a bit more crime around here lately," Agnes said, her eyebrows pulled together in concern.

Prudence wasn't too concerned, but she was curious, "More crime than usual? Do you remember where we live?"

"Don't be smart, I know London is dangerous already, but this isn't your usual urchin," Agnes thought a moment, "I believe the right term, would be serial killer."

This intrigued her. Being stowed away for most of her life had made the young woman too curious for her own good. (And not enough afraid, for that matter.)

"What makes them think it's a serial killer? Lots of people die," Prudence questioned skeptically. Agnes had a grim expression on her face, "they appear to be only targeting women, poor things."

"I see. Well, I'd like to say I'm not like most women. I'm pretty scrappy."

"Did you just say 'scrappy?' Hell, maybe you should stay here tonight, you've seemed to have lost your, mind, let alone your inhibitions."

"Agnes, I have been training for four years, I doubt anyone will come near me before dark. But I must leave now."

Agnes crossed her arms in a pout. For a woman twice her age, she could be quite childish.

"Have it your way, but do me a favor," the outlandish woman pulled a necklace from her bust.

'Does she keep everything in there?' Prudence thought back to her payment from earlier being quite warm.

She stopped thinking about it.

The uncovered necklace was simple, almost plain, cross except for the blood-red stones garnishing the edges. They didn't shine, they were dull, almost like spilled blood.

Agnes clasped the necklace around the young woman's neck without room for argument. "I know it sounds silly, but this should keep you safe. I like to think of it as a good luck charm. Don't take it off," Agnes said sternly.

Prudence rolled her eyes, "Why? Did you do some voodoo to it to keep the spirits away?" Prudence teased.

The older woman laughed out loud a little too hard, "Ahahaha, no. Because it's a gift and that would be rude."

Prudences grasped the cross in thought, "Well, I appreciate the sentiment. Now really, I need to be off."

Agnes waved her off, "Go! I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow!"

Prudence made it home safely without much incident, she was almost disappointed. She deposited her payment into a locked chest under her bed. She had been replenishing her savings slowly. Hopefully, she could keep herself afloat, though renting was a poor trade. Prudence considered doing extra odd jobs to earn her way to some land, but then remembered why she had sought out the seamstress in the first place.

Agnes was different, and after today, she wasn't quite sure the assumptions she had made about the outlandish woman were correct. She had both given her a job and invited her into her home. This touched the young girl deeply, making her feel even more depressed at her lack of companionship that followed her father's death.

What brought Prudence out of her pity party was an awful smell.

'My scent was more than enough to ward off a serial killer…' she thought.

She made her way to the washroom and prepared herself a bath.

Prudence was exhausted after working such a busy with the boisterous seamstress. Physically she was fine, but mentally she felt she had run to the Americas. She had been such a lonely person for so long, only keeping the company of someone who knew her the entirety of her life…

It was refreshing.

It was like stretching sore muscles or popping an aching joint.

While she knew she would never stop the pain her father's death had brought her, she could at least distract herself with people who brought meaning to her life and sought her out without obligation.

Hopefully, this was just the beginning of her story.

Hello! How is everyone?

…

Sorry I've been gone so long.

Sometimes we can't prepare ourselves for life's events. Especially the ones we never thought could happen to us.

I don't really want to go too far into it, but promise me that if someone reaches out to you or seems like they need help, help them. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. Even if you don't really like them.

I'll be back to updating this story since I still really like it. Chapter Four is under revision as we speak. Sorry, its going to seem slow until chapter 5, which is where the plot begins. Get ready fam. ;)

Also thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed. I came back here for you. Without you, I'm not sure I would be continuing.

Godspeed.


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